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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162438">Gelbe Jacke</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlycomfort/pseuds/curlycomfort'>curlycomfort</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dark (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Strange Man, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hannah Does Not Need To Know, How To Give Michael Kahnwald A Heart Attack, I Did Not Write This At 3 AM, Paternal Instinct, The Story Behind Jonas' Yellow Jacket, Who Could It Be?, Young Jonas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:55:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,430</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162438</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlycomfort/pseuds/curlycomfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Having someone go missing is a story of heartbreak and uncertainty.</p><p>In which Jonas goes missing briefly, but the impact is done.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonas Kahnwald &amp; Michael Kahnwald | Mikkel Nielsen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Gelbe Jacke</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This went on a little longer than I expected.</p><p>Here it is at last.</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On Saturdays, Hannah usually slept in, and Michael took over the responsibility of fixing up breakfast for Jonas.</p><p>At the tender age of six, their son had taken a liking to rise early, full of energy, even within his own quietness. Jonas ran and played with anything his mind latched on to, like any other kid his age, yes, but even so, he seemed to have taken a little after Michael's own hushed nature.</p><p>His loudness manifested in the avid swing of his legs over the edge of the chair seat, watching expectantly while Michael moved around the kitchen. Jonas would sometimes glance at his face, others at the slightly fresh paint that clung to his work clothes. It had been one of those all nighters where Michael invested his waking hours in finishing the work in progress he had in the moment; there was no use in postponing his work when his fingers itched to portray the already envisioned strokes he thought would finish shaping up his idea, really. Exhaustion weighed on his shoulders, but he found a great balance with the satisfaction he received from his work.</p><p>Saturdays were Michael's favourite day of the week because it was only Jonas and him, sharing a nice breakfast together and later tending to whatever the boy decided would be fun to spend their time on. Hannah joined in around ten to have her own share of breakfast then head out for groceries.</p><p>It was a peace he could look back to any time.</p><p>Michael buttered a slice of bread,evenly, and set it on a plate, situating it in front of Jonas' expecting form. "Something to stave off your hunger, kiddo." The father gave a ruffle to his son's hair and turned back to the stove, hesitating on the spot before deciding to approach the fridge instead. Behind him, he could hear Jonas still swinging his legs on his seat while managing to bite into the offered bread.</p><p>There was no music to fill the silence in the house, different from how it used to be before Jonas was born. The radio that had been used on those days sat idle on the counter, beaten by the charming conversation that could only be created by a child. An imagination with no boundaries, and a thoughtful mission to learn as much as they could. Kids were so eager to soak up any knowledge attractive to the eye, and often times, repeat themselves as if dwelling over it in silence wasn't fair, a must for the adults to hear. Last week was a soup commercial from the TV, this week, it was an oustanding fascination over a children's song, mysteriously making its appearance after little Jonas spent an afternoon with Ines Kahnwald.</p><p>So it didn't exactly surprise him that his son set himself to voice it since that point in the morning.</p><p>"<em>Backe, backe, Kuchen. Backe, backe, Kuchen.</em>" Over and over he went, somehow managing not to choke on his bread and seemingly stuck in the first verse of the song. It made Michael grimace a little, mostly towards himself because he'd heard the song so many times already that he knew what to came next.</p><p>The older Kahnwald got out the ingredients needed for breakfast, set the pan to heat and stirred three eggs in a bowl -with a little milk because Jonas liked when they looked like fluffy clouds- with memorized motions. By the time he was pouring the eggs onto the pan, he piqued in the next time his son finished intoning the phrase again.</p><p>"<em>Der Bäcker hat gerufen. Wer will guten Kuchen backen, der muss haben sieben Sachen."  </em>And Michael really expected to simply get away with the relief of providing what had been circling his mind every time, but surprisingly, Jonas didn't restart the phrase, simply gazing up and at him with his mouth chewing around the corner of his bread. A little smile grazed his lips, somewhat shyl but equally sincere.</p><p>The notion made Michael smile, trying not to <em>burn</em> the eggs while making sure he returned the gesture to his son. He'd been waiting for his father to continue, all this time, it seemed; and maybe for the little Kahnwald it was just what fell into his normal expectations, but it didn't fail to make Michael feel warm and, in those moments reserved with his family, absolutely happy.</p><p>Breakfast was finished. The mouth watering smell of scrambled eggs and ham permeating the kitchen with a warmth opposite to that of the cool morning air outside.</p><p>"Eat your breakfast, kiddo." Michael gave Jonas a fork and sat down on his side, shifting around with the stretch and tug of slightly tense muscles.</p><p>"Thank you, Papa."  Came the tiny response.</p><p>-</p><p>Jonas descended the stairs with quick steps, hand trailing on the railing to prevent any slip ups. His other hand wrapped around a little plastic ball, transparent in its majority asides the little colorful stars scattered inside the material of the bouncing ball. It was surprisingly clean for it being owned by a little boy that liked to get dirty more often than not. Michael didn't think it would end up being such an important toy for his son. He'd spotted the bouncing ball machine in the supermarket upon making a late run for cleaning supplies to give his studio the monthly cleanup he did.</p><p>When he saw it, he thought of Jonas right away and bought one, giving little thought to it until the next morning had come and he'd surprised the young boy with it.</p><p>Jonas and the bouncing ball were inseparable since then.</p><p>Michael locked the front door. Hannah had been up for a little bit by then, and was in the process of finishing up with the dishes to head out for groceries.</p><p>For that Saturday, Jonas decided that he wanted to go with Michael into town, to the candy shop right at the corner of a bakery and hardware store, probably the best in Winden, Michael reckoned. As far as he knew, the shop still existed in 2019, and while it had lost its former popularity, it still managed to get plenty of customers and enough recommendation to actually expand to a few other towns in the state. The shop would also go to be managed by the current owner's son, Nils Traeger. From what he'd hear though, the man wanted nothing to do with the shop, but still went in to prepare the Haselnuss-Schnitte treats. People thought they were one of the best treats sold; Michael himself probably would've gone fat by that point if he let himself gorge into it too much.</p><p>So with good reason, Jonas was excited by the prospect of stepping in again to the sweet smelling interior of the store. Nothing less than a dream, lined up with shelves upon shelves of treats to cater to people's different taste.</p><p>Michael descended the stairs. He saw Jonas look forward, lifting his arm -holding the ball- gently, indecision in his next move. He seemed to find the forest ground outside their home the incorrect place to let the ball bounce free, and lowered his arm again, blinking at his own approaching form with unsuspecting eyes.</p><p>"It's cold outside, cover up." Michael gently chided, that fond paternal reaction towards the tiniest detail that could potentially lead to worse things down the road. He bended down a little, enough to tug the sides of the dark green jacket together. It was a little difficult when its wearer slightly bounced with impatience.</p><p>"Come on, Papa." Jonas tugged free once the zipper was pulled up and took a few steps to relish in his much waited freedom of movement. He didn't take off, merely lifting a hand towards Michael, snuggling closer to his father's taller form when he took his small hand in his and they both began walking through the light scatter of trees surrounding their home. Not as dense as it got once someone ventured into the forest further and away from the houses.</p><p>"Are you going to paint a tree?" Jonas asked a few minutes in, kicking his feet through piles of leaves.</p><p>"No." Michael replied, tensing his hold on Jonas' hand when the other lost his balance on the uneven terrain. "We're taking some pictures."</p><p>"Why?" Jonas asked.</p><p>"I need a reference for colours. Easier to mix the paint and get the right shade than by memory."</p><p>"Oh." His son went quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "I have leaves and sticks at home." He provided eventually. "That can help, yes? But they are a little dry and brown."</p><p>Michael considered it. He wanted to do something with different shades, the pale and dark green tones that would provide the ideal atmosphere for his painting. But still- "That's not a bad idea, kiddo. I could use that too." He smiled at his son, then furrowed his brows a little. "So you just store leaves and sticks somewhere at home?" He mused.</p><p>Jonas realized that he'd just revealed something he shouldn't have, and smiled sheepishly. "I have a box behind my bed- But don't tell Mama, she doesn't like dirt in the house."</p><p>Michael's laugh erupted from within his chest unexpectedly, swallowed in the silence of the forest, but vibrant enough in the shared solitude between them. Anyone else would say it was uncharacteristic of Michael, which wasn't wrong. He was quite reserved, unless he felt completely safe and not uncomfortable by the addling interactions with people he knew, but at the same time not. It was too risky, more when they had Jonas already, and he couldn't afford to have any of his future drastically changed by something minimum he did.</p><p>He didn't let the train of thought shine through his expression, and instead managed a weak smile, close to neutral. "No word to your mother, okay? And I don't mind as long as you do not make a mess with them."</p><p>His son's mouth tightened into a thin smile.</p><p>-</p><p>Bursts of green and brown surrounded Michael in a somewhat gloomy surrounding, very usual for Winden when the sun hid for only certain days and the town was predominated by rain and chilly nights. It was closing in on November already, with people turning towards warm and inviting insides rather the slightly tetrical enclosing of the forest. Even the rebelious kids that turned their noses away from restriction found a place to spend time somewhere else.</p><p>It depended on the person who viewed it in order to establish what type of setting one could describe the forest as. Michael wasn't particularly fond of the outside, the seeming infinity stretch of trees, dense enough to allow the darkness in. Although, he wasn't as scared of stepping out there alone, not since he decidedly stored away the fresh memories of waking up and stepping out into a Winden that he hadn't been born in.</p><p>There was also the issue of the Winden Caves. He'd avoided them like the plague, visiting unless it was absolutely necessary. The first and last time Hannah convinced him of exploring around the area -he was fourteen and didn't want to mess up his friendship with Hannah so he'd tagged along despite his fear- he ended up urgently tagging her away when he thought there were footsteps coming from within.</p><p>Maybe it was the fact that the tangle of paths were too unknown to get used to them. Michael could handle getting used to interacting with the younger versions of his parents and siblings, that could be trained on with enough exposure and imagination, but the caves... He wasn't setting foot inside again.</p><p>They only walked past it, without any acknowledgement whatsoever. Michael had a suspicion that Jonas was confused by his reluctance around the caves, but seemed to think that it was just dangerous and therefore a place that he couldn't walk into, in the end.</p><p>Michael looked down at Jonas, ruffling his hair while he crouched to the ground. He removed the backpack from his shoulders, periodically glancing to the side to make sure his son was still close. Upon bringing out his camera, the screen lighting up when it was booted up, he felt the familiar presence of his boy peeking over his shoulder, eyes gleaming. "Papa, can I take a picture?"</p><p>Michael incorporated a little, bringing up the device and angling it so it was facing the front. The image blurred with the movement, the frames catching up and the zoom feature doing its job of sharpening the image; they looked at the forest through what the camera captured on screen. "Of course. As soon as I take the pictures I need, we can do so, alright?" Michael slowly stood up and began moving in place to find the right image to capture. There was a cluster of trees, arranged in a particular way that left around the same space in between them as well as providing a nice shot of the different colours and textures from each one.</p><p>It was a consuming process, demanding the sufficient attention and stability of his hold over the camera in order to obtain the right shot. The camera went off with a click, the same process repeated with a few possible settings Michael could use.</p><p>He took opportunity of snapping a few pictures of the sky, any bird he could find perched on the trees. Anything was useful for weeks worth of paintings or at least strong ideas for his current object of inspiration.</p><p>Maybe he could make some sort of merged comparison, seasons change, from green to orange.</p><p>Time passed without his notice, and one picture stemmed into another, idea behind idea.</p><p>It was, decidedly, his biggest mistake. One thing was to let himself be carried by his art back at home, but outside, with his son in tow, he couldn't afford letting his attention drift. And when the man lowered the camera, checking on the captures he made, his mind began catching up with his surroundings, all at once taking him to-</p><p>He couldn't hear Jonas.</p><p>-</p><p>He didn't mind waiting for his father to finish taking pictures. But it got boring after a while, with endless miles of trees the only thing at his disposition.</p><p>At one given point, Jonas began bouncing his translucent ball against a tree trunk. It was very entertaining, bringing him a rush of excitement every time he ran around to catch it in time. It was risky, of course, the ball could get lost in the piles of leaves and bushes. If he managed to catch it, it was a point in favour; sometimes it would bounce erratically, too strong of a throw to get a gentle trajectory.</p><p>Jonas was pretty sure he couldn't lose at the game, and confidence allowed him to pursue that erratic bouncing, jumping up to get it, lunging to the side to catch it before it got too far. He made sure not to bump against his dad, neither throw the ball towards him.</p><p>He was bound to miss at one point, and he did, angling his throw far off than he usually did, and he could only watch as the ball completely missed the tree trunk and flew past it until disappearing in a quick descent. That alone allowed it to pick up pace, but if he was quick, he could catch it in time.</p><p>He just had to go away one moment, it wouldn't take long.</p><p>Jonas alternated between looking at the ball and at his dad, moving as silently as he could a few steps back then turning and beginning the chase for his toy. He couldn't lose it, it wasn't just an ordinary ball, his dad had gifted it to him.</p><p>His chest quickly heaved with the quick pace, the cold prickly and burning against his cheeks. He almost slipped with a loose rock, sliding to the lower ground, hand digging into dry leaves to slow himself down.</p><p>He stood up.</p><p>The ball was nowhere to be seen, probably hiding close by, but he was sure it had headed the way he followed. At least, he hoped for. Frustration creeped into his features, kicking at the ground as he went, every time hoping he would catch sight of the colorful stars.</p><p>Jonas turned over rocks, shook around bushes and shifted leaves around but no sign of his bouncing ball.</p><p>The six year old glanced behind his back, uncertain and reluctant. The only place he'd avoided was the caves. It wasn't likely that it would be there, but it wouldn't hurt to check, right? He wasn't going to walk in deeply, barely away from the entrance. And he might've taken a little longer but barely any time to raise concern with his dad. So Jonas picked up his pace again and approached the dark void contrasting the clear sky overhead. At first glance, it wasn't as scary as some had said, a little damp and all sharp irregular edges, but he'd heard they were too complicated and <em>dark</em>, an easy way to get lost. Many had tried to conquer it and failed. Usually older students at his school.</p><p>He could see how it wasn't so funny.</p><p>The tiniest rock that crumbled off resonated spookily. Jonas had to blink and adjust to the darkness, not too useful in his predicament. It was harder to make out the shapes inside the cave, the dark enveloping him further at the same time he stepped in further, every time telling himself that it was just a bit, just a bit more and not too far yet. Jonas reached for the closest wall blindly.</p><p>A light went on to his right, a bright round orb that wobbled up and down as it made its approach towards him. Jonas could only freeze and press up against the wall, hoping that whatever or whoever it was would not take notice of him.</p><p>It still kept going towards him. When it finally stopped, close enough to be included in the gentle shower of light from the orb, he squinted upwards.</p><p>A pair of eyes peered back at him seriously.</p><p>"You shouldn't be here." The voice, masculine, piqued in eventually. It didn't sound angry, just stern, like how Grandma Ines and Papa Michael talked to him when they wanted to make sure he understood when something was dangerous and he should stay away from it.</p><p>Jonas swallowed back his fear, jutting his chin upwards in an attempt to appear brave.</p><p>"Who are you?" He dared ask.</p><p>"A stranger." The ball of light -he had no idea what type of flashlight it was, but it was very cool- moved up more, until Jonas could get a better look at the man's face. He looked tired, or maybe it was the expression lines that naturally set like that from heavy experiences. To Jonas, he looked somewhat sad, with a hint of interest directed towards him. Like stumbling upon a rare finding.</p><p>"I need to go." Jonas looked in the direction of the cave's entrance. "I need to go back to my dad."</p><p>"Wait." The flashlight moved away for a moment, flickering distortioned shadows with the ruffle of clothes. The light came around again, and an object came to sight. "I found this on my way here. "This is yours."</p><p>Jonas' eyebrows shot up in excitement, taking said object in his hands and rubbing it against his jacket to get it clean. "How did you know?"</p><p>The stranger glanced to the side. "You are the only child around here right now." He said, managing to look unconvinced by his own reply. A hand set over Jonas' back, urging him towards the natural light from the outside.</p><p>"Go." The walls changed from dark to illuminated. The orb of light went off just as they stepped out and the hand let go of him. "You shouldn't be here yet."</p><p>Jonas took off on his own, now urgent with the need to get back to his dad, hopefully having his absence unnoticed.</p><p>If he had more time, he would've asked the man what he <em>meant</em> by that.</p><p>
  <em>-</em>
</p><p>Michael's head shot up, scenery all but forgotten as he frantically glanced around him. Jonas was nowhere close, and glancing at the surrounding area resulted him in a dead end as well. He must've been too distracted, too concentrated in focusing the image right that he never heard the other walk away. He couldn't have gotten far... right?</p><p>"Jonas?"</p><p>He tried not to panic. It couldn't be difficult to find him. They were in dead daylight and the forest wasn't too dense where they had stopped at. It couldn't have taken Michael more than ten minutes to take the pictures. Trembling hands stashed the camera in his bag, not bothering to zip it up all the way to take off in his search. His eyes tried to catch on to any moving body, anything that stood out from the stillness of the forest. <em>Green, green, green. Dense and swallowing. The first place where people got lost in Winden.</em></p><p>"Jonas!" Michael walked -more urgently- turning at every chance he got, trying to figure out in what direction he could've possibly gone. What had he been wearing? A green jacket, he remembered zipping that up. Black pants, maybe blue, he couldn't remember. <em>Hannah was going to kill him, if he didn't die out of panic first, that is.</em></p><p>Panic and anxiety twisted in the pit of his stomach. His body deciding between locking up in pure fear, or getting on the move. Michael hadn't felt that much terror in a few years. Those panic attacks had been left behind with the young and troubled kid he used to be. Mama Ines taking him to a therapist in her worry, paid for whatever medication they prescribed him. Sleepless nights spent by his bedside, the dead set stare he had over his bedroom's window, swearing he could hear the faraway scream of the Winden caves calling out to him. He'd desperately longed to leave and at the same time feared that whoever had taken him there the first time was back to drag him somewhere else. His worries didn't quite make sense, they never did, and the best thing had been trying to leave it behind.</p><p>Michael stopped on his track, hands balling into shaking fists. Pain blossomed in pale crevices left behind by his digging nails. It was useless, or maybe he was the one useless, freezing up in fear like a little boy, but the fact was that he couldn't go too far in any direction because there was the strong possibility that Jonas hadn't gone that way- And what if he was far away? What if something had happened and Michael had been too engrossed in taking the damn pictures.</p><p>Not his son, Michael rather have something happen to himself first than Jonas.</p><p>"Fuck!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, chest heaving with the effort to keep up with his rapidly beating heart. What if he messed up the timeline? What if he finally ruined everything, not over Mikkel's future disappearance but Jonas own life? He'd worked so bad to keep himself as further away from the main line, he'd been too wary of his own actions that he'd let the rest go out of control.</p><p>He should call someone. Hannah? Mama Ines? Maybe the police. They would know what to do.</p><p>Dammit, he was the adult in the situation, he should know what to do.</p><p>Michael pat around his pockets for his phone, clutching it a little tighter than necessary, but it was the only way to stop his hands from shaking so much.</p><p>He dialed the first contact he saw, bringing the phone up to his ear. The call rang a few times, then they picked up with a kind <em>Hello?</em></p><p>Michael covered his eyes with his hand, refusing to break down that badly. "Ma-" He choked on his words. "Mama Ines."</p><p>
  <em>"Michael? Michael What's wrong?"</em>
</p><p>The soothing reply, so soft and concerned broke him down right then and there, a sob exploding from his chest, ugly and breathless. "It's-" His voice rose with the crescent wave of the next sob. "Jo- Jonas. It's Jonas. I can't find him. Mama Ines, it's happening again.<em> It's happening again!</em>"</p><p>"Michael, where are you? What happened? Does Hannah-"</p><p>"Papa?" Ines' voice fades away, still talking, but unintelligible under the other voice that had him letting go of his face to see for himself who said that, or if he was just making up things.</p><p>"Papa!" Footsteps ran towards him, small but steady. Michael managed to utter something into the phone, something along the lines of <em>He's here, he's here. I'll call you as soon as I can Mama. </em>and hung up, falling to his knees just as the small form of his son pressed up to him.</p><p>"Jonas.<em> Oh Jonas.</em>" Relief washed over him so suddenly. "I thought I'd lost you. I was so afraid." Once Michael's arms wrapped around Jonas, he wouldn't be letting go any time soon.</p><p>-</p><p>They somehow managed to keep the situation from Hannah, although she did suspect something happened when she saw Michael look shaken up and less relaxed than he'd been in the morning.</p><p>As soon as he could, Michael went into town on his own, hunting down a sink part he needed to fix the one they had at home in the kitchen. He'd stumbled on with the clothes store by accident, upon catching sight of a very specific item. It ignited his memories, from back <em>then</em>, when he used to share fistbumps with Jonas, and the same one he last saw before disappearing. It took twenty minutes to make a specific purchase. It made sense, after all, that they would eventually stumble upon the topic.</p><p>Michael didn't want to risk having Jonas get lost in the environment again; the green jacket was quite old already, so it would be a nice surprise for his son.</p><p>At home, Jonas peeked into the shopping bag, plucked out the brand new jacket, just his size.</p><p>"A yellow jacket!" The six year old exclaimed, holding up the clothing article. It stood out against the tame colours of the house, for sure from the outside as well, with the browns and greens predominating. It wasn't too bright to become obnoxious, but good enough to catch the eye quick.</p><p>And it just sat right on Jonas, like he was meant to wear it.</p><p>Michael thought he truly was.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Song referenced:<br/>Backe, backe Kuchen - Kinderlieder zum Mitsingen | Sing Kinderlieder<br/>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5UM3ecX69Jo</p></blockquote></div></div>
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